Just Like Dad
by Frogger No Baka
Summary: Sarah is aggravated that her dead father lives on in David. Well... almost...


A/N: Thanks to Kez for getting my energy focused towards writing this one. Appreciate it, sweets.

Disclaimer and Warning: I don't own the Newsies. This isn't to knock any writers, or anyone who holds Mayer Jacobs as a saint. This is just my fun. Rated PG-13 for a description of mine.

Just Like Dad

by froggerNObaka

Sarah angrily got up her from computer and pushed her desk chair away. She had had it! She had been trying to write a story for days… but nothing had come of it. It was just as her father had said to her. _"You want to be a writer, then be my guest! But you'll just end up poor and penniless, and live with your brother! Because you sure as hell won't live here!"_ The argument had lasted for days, until Sarah left the house to live with a girlfriend of hers until she headed off to college two weeks later. She rarely spoke to her father after that. They'd be civil, but more than polite exchanges and greetings bothered her. Her father had since died, and in heartbreak, her mother soon after. The whole thing was quite storybook. It drove Sarah insane.

Well, here she was, living nearly the exact lifestyle her father had predicted. She wasn't exactly penniless—she had a job as a waitress at a Moroccan restaurant in Chelsea—but she sure as hell was poor. And she did live with David. It's not like she didn't pay him rent or anything, but she did live with him. Just as her dad had predicted.

Hm. Speaking of David, she hadn't seen him since eight last night, when she rushed off to work. It was quite odd for the two of them to not see each other for long periods of time, because they took their meals around the same time, and Sarah often woke David in the morning—he was quite the sleeper. _Like Dad_, she thought, without really meaning too. Cursing her self out, she mused on things a bit. This morning, David had left a note on the fridge asking Sarah _not _to wake him up. Which she found odd, considering he had told her the night before he had so many things he wanted to do today. _Perhaps he's downstairs eating. It's not like I left my computer today. I just sat here, staring blankly trying to write. And thinking. About my father._

Grumbling at the fact that her mind couldn't come off of it, she went downstairs into the kitchen. David, surprisingly, wasn't there. But he had certainly been down there at one point, and left the milk out. Yet _another_ trait that she found her father tediously had. He always left the milk out. Mama was always chiding him about it, but he didn't care. He was stubborn enough that he didn't even listen. And almost everyone listed to her mother.

Putting the milk away, Sarah curiously wandered upstairs. David, the slob, had left his clothes on the floor of the laundry room. That was yet _another_ thing her father did that bothered her. Just one more thing. David was always going to be "just like dad." He had spent his whole life just emulating her father. Which Sarah found interesting, since her dad was such a slob and when was a kid, David used to be so damn anal-retentive. But he had grown out of that since, and now he was just a growing picture of Mayer Jacobs, the oppressive bastard who didn't let her daughter follow her dreams. Well, at least he was proud of David. Something he would never achieve of Sarah again, even in the afterlife. He'd just take glee at laughing at her, and tell his friends—that is, if he had any—to watch his daughter, the writer, living off of his son, the rich plastic surgeon, who was exactly like him. Yes, just like Dad. How _ever_ did he manage, not cracking the pressure of conforming to a life that someone else had previously lived?!

Angrily, Sarah pounded on the door, wondering what the fuck was going on. She waited about five seconds, and when nobody responded, she pushed the door—unlocked, just like her father when he wanted privacy—with a frenzy. She immediately regretted she hasn't.

David was lying on the bed, growing erection—just like her father—but next to him was… was… one of Sarah's best friends through high school, despite the age gap. Jack Kelly. In bed. With David. With their arms around each other. They had definitely not just collapsed that way.

Heart racing, Sarah closed the door. She was quite taken aback at first. Until her face finally grew into smile. _Hmm..., _she thought, grinning, _just like dad, eh? _Racing back to her computer, Sarah's adrenaline started pumping until she could hold it in no longer. Making an obscene gesture towards heaven, Sarah started to type.

--SCENE--


End file.
